Kid's Dream Chrisiana's Secret
by djwolfgirl
Summary: At DWMA there's a new death scythe. A pretty young one at that. To most, she's a stranger. But Kid knows her. And he thought he knew everything, but guess again. When Chrisiana's secret is out, where will the two of them be? Will they still have each other's backs? Will they abandon each other? Or will they find something else between them?


"Hi, I'm new here. Can either of you point me in the direction of Sir Death's office?"

She stood before the group, her hair purple, curly, and all over the place with no clips, bands, or holders keeping it in place. Much like her personality, her hair was obvious and had no certain shape; it merely took whatever shape it could, pushing at the boundaries forced upon it and yet its length kept it from filling the room entirely.

Her blood red eyes never wavered from her fellow beings', looking through them to their very souls. It was as if she needed one look, one blink of an eye, and she knew every deep, dark secret about you. But there was a promise hidden within the depths of her eyes. A promise that said she would never speak of, never acknowledge your secrets until granted permission. Even deeper in the depths was her own set of secrets, not guarded enough so nobody would know of their existence, but guarded enough so that you couldn't tell what they were. In her eyes was strength, confidence, and a small, insignificant, almost unnoticeable spark of fear. This spark was something that you would have to look into her eyes, unwavering, unchanging, for hours on end to notice; or you had to be that close to her heart that she would bring the spark forth.

She stood strong, unmoving, and yet moving around the entire room in one glance. Her very posture was enough to throw people off. Her posture showed no spark of fear, showed no hesitation. It was as if she was there, and you either liked it or not. There was no ignoring it. She stood above the crowd, despite her slightly shorter than average stance. Her aura rang out, emitting power from every atom in her body. It was as if she didn't hold anything back, yet if one were to read enough into her aura, he or she would notice that the immense power radiating off of her was barely a fraction of the power she contained. Her aura was enough to make the toughest, meanest, heartless of all men take a step back from her, and it wasn't even a percentage of her full potential. She was true power.

The clothes she chose to cover her body were simple, cheerful to an extent, but were capable of covering any weapon she could possibly conceal. Yet it didn't take a genius to know she never carried weapons. She was too strong to need them. As she stood before them, she wore a dark blue, short sleeved, v-neck blouse with straight-legged, light blue jeans. Upon her feet were simple, purple vans. Across her chest and at her side was an olive green satchel, dirty and worn to the point where it almost broke, yet clean and neat. Around it all was the only dark article of clothing: a long, black as night, trench coat that hung around her body. It wasn't unflattering, as most trench coats were, but, instead, accentuated her curves with every wrinkle in the fabric. The arms hung around her lean ones, their only purpose being to cover her arms. It was as if this simple trench coat was the key lock to all of her secrets; a lock that was easily broken with a simple tug. That is, if you could get close enough to tug it.

Her voice was the most seductive part of her. It made her perfect, strong, irresistible body seem like child's play. One could say it was full of money, but there was something more to it. It was as if her voice touched the very depths of one's heart with a single syllable. It could grab anything it wanted with a single sigh, a gasp, a breath. This was the voice that syrens envied. Her voice was sweet, and small, yet rough, and large; kind and soft, yet rude and ragged; tender, yet uncaring; one could lose oneself in this voice and, if she spoke enough, one _did_ lose oneself in it. The voice that came closest to this voice was the voice of a pleading, begging mother singing her lullaby.

Maka looked to the unfamiliar woman, shaking her head.

"DMWA students aren't allowed in Mister Death's office unless requested."

She tilt her head, raising a perfect brow as her hair fell to the side, taking more space.

"And do you not know the way?"

Black Star took his turn this time. He came up to the girl, in his confident way, and said, "Why do you even need to see Sir Death? You're here with the famous Black Star!"

She looked at him, unimpressed as she flipped her hair, brushing away.

"Personally, I'd prefer to spend time with Sir Death than with you, Black Star."

Her tone and actions were rude, but there was a twinkle of joking in her eyes that made her actions unbelievable.

Black Star took her words as a knife to the heart. His weapon had to comfort him as Soul pointed her the right way.

"It's down that hall, and there should be a teacher to guide you the rest of the way."

The woman smiled, thanking him as she went along, taking his exasperated directions. As the group watched her leave, they realized she couldn't have been much older than them. But they way she held herself was of someone far past their age.

Death the Kid, accompanied by Lizzie and Patty, walked down the hallway to his father's office. His father had summoned him for some unknown reason, but he had nothing better to do. As he took in the symmetrical hallway, he had to stop and fix everything that broke that symmetry, much to Lizzie's annoyance.

"Sir Death won't be pleased if we're late again," she complained as Kid went to fix another painting.

"Symmetry is the most important thing, Lizzie. If you don't have symmetry, then there's no point in being punctual," he offhandedly answered, measuring the painting.

"But symmetry is so~ boring. Who needs it? Random placing is where it's at," a voice he knew better than his own said behind him.

He didn't even have to turn around to see who it was; he knew who it was. Every atom in his body knew who it was as they reacted to her accordingly. His ears rose and fell with her voice; his nose involuntarily took in larger sniffs to indulge itself in her aroma; his skin blazed with the way she could take up an entire gymnasium by standing in one spot. And his emotions whirled as he turned around to see her beautiful purple hair tied up into a pigtail on one side, and down on the other.

"_You_ need symmetry, Chris. Everything about you is random!" he exclaimed, his anger flaring at her simple hairdo.

She laughed him off, pulling the band out of her hair. Just as he was about to make another comment, she planted a soft kiss upon his lips. He blushed profusely, causing her to laugh more as she pulled away.

"Wha... Why... Who..." he stumbled over his words, taken aback by the softness of her lips.

She rolled her eyes at him, saying, "That's the only way you ever shut up about your symmetry talk. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

Her easy going nature enthralled him, yet angered him. He hated the way she could stir him up like that with a simple hairdo, with a simple kiss. He didn't know why she had so much power on him, nor did he care. He just wanted her to be just another person, like they all were. He had learned long ago to not let anyone have a hold on you, unless you want to be stabbed in the back. That's what had happened with his mother.

How he missed her so.

He heard Lizzie and Patty's happy laughter as they hugged Chris, talking in high pitched voices about gossip and such. Chris cut them off.

"I'm afraid this talk will have to be saved for later; I have a meeting with Sir Death to head to."

Lizzie opened her mouth in happy surprise, saying, "So do we! We should go together!"

But Kid knew how Lizzie really felt about Chris; he could read it in her soul wavelengths. She was jealous of Chris, for what he didn't know. All he knew is that she did, and that it intensified every time Chris touched or kissed Kid.

"C'mon, daddy's boy!"

Chris came up to Kid and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, dragging him to the office. He wanted to break free from her hold, but a part of him didn't let him. This same part made him grin and wrap his arm around her shoulder, walking with her as they did when they were kids.

When he was her only friend.

As they walked to Death's office, everywhere Kid touched her burned in pleasure. She loved the way his arm felt around her shoulders, the way his stunned lips met her excited ones when she reached in for a kiss. She knew her feelings all too well, but she knew all too well that she could never act on them. Besides the fact that he didn't feel that way about her, there was the fact that he was Death's son and she was...

She wouldn't think of it. She shook her head to scramble her thoughts, to try and distract herself from his touch, from the lingering feel of his lips on hers. She could feel everyone's wavelength, could feel Lizzie's jealousy, but Kid's was the only one she blocked out. He didn't pry into her secrets and she wouldn't pry into his. But once, just once, she wanted to have a peek at what his wavelength was like. What color did it change around what people? Did it turn bright pink when he was around her? What about when he was thinking of her? _Did_ he ever think about her? She couldn't tell; she refused to tell.

Death's door came too soon, and she had to break apart from Kid. The places where he once touched her now felt cold, but she continued with her cool facade. She wasn't worth someone like Kid, anyways. He was too nice, too understanding. She didn't deserve him, and he didn't deserve the shit that would come with her. No, she would wait until a low life came around, hope he would love her, and give her heart to that person. She would keep her love for Kid a secret, even to the grave.

Sir Death was behind the door, wrapping the two teens in a tight hug. Chris matched Kid's groan, but, in truth, she was glad to see the one person that truly cared for her.

"Chrisiana, how have you been?" Death asked excitedly, moving back from the two.

She'd nod, saying, "I've been good. Just doing death scythe stuff."

"Good, good. Well, let's have a seat and I'll tell you four what I've called you for."

Chris nodded, taking a seat next to Patty, who was next to Kid, who was next to Lizzie. She could tell Kid was resisting the urge to complain about the unequal amount of people around him. She peeked a glance at him and noticed he was already staring at her. With blushed cheeks, she stuck her tongue out at him. He, in turn, stuck his out at her. She laughed at the unusual sight.

Kid laughed at their childlike gestures before turning to look at his father. He didn't want to tear his eyes from her; he loved looking at her. It baffled him how someone's personality could be represented so well by a few random physical traits.

His smile faltered at the thought of whose traits she shared. He peeked another glance at her, seeing she was focused on his father. She looked so much like her mother, but her mother's aura didn't surround her. That baffled him too. She was a near replica to her mother, the only difference being eye color (her mother had black pits for eyes), but one could tell the differences between the two immediately. Their auras were just that different.

He shuddered at the thought of her mother, someone who made Dr. Stein seem safe.

He shook his head clear of the memory and listened in on what his father had to say.


End file.
